


Okay

by SamehWrites



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Death, Domestic, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Love, Minor Character Death, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 15:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16813207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamehWrites/pseuds/SamehWrites
Summary: The plot follows the past and the present of Elliot and his girlfriend. As the attack on the storage facilities happen, the terrible news are revealed.





	Okay

**Author's Note:**

> It’s finally here! I spent so much time on it and I am so happy to finally post it! I decided to post the whole thing in one go. Please like, reblog and comment, your feedback means a lot to me. Hope you enjoy it!  
> Originally posted on my Tumblr: https://almostrealdudes.tumblr.com/post/180701014279  
> Come around, my requests are open!

She entered the apartment and slid down onto the floor. It was agonizing; besides the buzz of the fridge and the distant chatter from the street, there was nothing. She lived alone, but the apartment has never felt that lonely before. It was completely empty.

She was empty.

The air was filled with dust; it was flying around in the sunlight, disturbed by her entrance. The bed was in the exact state as she left it, untouched. The clothes were all over the place in complete mess from her chaotic ‘what to wear’ rummage. The whole place was painfully undisturbed, as if a month hasn’t passed from her last departure to her shutting the door behind her the past second.

The general goal was to re-enter this bubble that was her life and proceed doing whatever she was doing before. She did not expect to find this so difficult, painful, hurting, and depressing.

Oh how did it hurt.

***

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

“You look absolutely petrified.”

“No.. No, I’m okay.”

“Do you really feel like lying to me, still?”

They were driving; she was behind the wheel, he was seating next to her, staring into the window. It was dark outside, the warm lights were illuminating the salon, crawling onto the back seats and disappearing one after another. Some station was on, playing popular songs, filling up the optional silence. It was nice, being on a trip like this, driving the empty road, yet he was still nervous. She could feel it, of course she could. There was no need in reassuring questions, she knew him too well not to see his anxiety.

“They are going to love you.”

“Let’s not jump into conclusions.”

“Hey,” she looked at him and grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly, “stop overdramatizing, okay? Elliot, look at me.”

He returned the gaze and was met with a warm smile, the one she always used to calm him down.

“It’s not a trip to a torture house, okay? It’s just my parents.”

“That is exactly the reason.”

He saw her rolling her eyes, as she jokingly pushed his leg. Elliot contemplated a bit, fiddling with his fingers, formulating a thought. His gaze returned to the window as he spoke quietly:

“I just... I want to make a good impression. And if my memory serves me right, I’m not good at those.”

She looked at Elliot in awe, as he awkwardly crossed his hands, fidgeting in his seat, trying to get past the awkward moment. The traffic light conveniently changed to red; she stopped the car and leaned to Elliot, kissing him all over his face, leaving him startled.

“What are you doing,” he tried to move away slightly, unable to hold back a smile. Elliot turned his head towards Sophia and ended up receiving another kiss on the lips. Closing his eyes, he kissed her back, reaching to her cheek with his hand. The streetlight, not so conveniently this time, changed back to green, making her to break the kiss and start the car. Elliot licked his lips and groaned subtly, regaining his breath. She giggled, noticing his reaction.

“It’s gonna go great.”

***

She didn’t bother to undress. Her body fell onto the bed, slowly sinking into the messed sheets. More dust filled the air. She didn’t know what time it was, when did she get home, how long has she been lying like this, completely motionless. She felt detached from the world around her, as if everything was moving, but her. As if, the Earth was turning without her on it. She didn’t notice the tears falling down her face and soaking the pillow. Maybe it was because she couldn’t feel anything. Or maybe because the pain was so continuous that she wasn’t noticing it anymore.

Her phone was buzzing without pause. It probably was her sister worrying or wanting something from her. She wondered how many texts and mixed calls were there; she never looked at the screen. Why does it matter anyway? She already knew all the questions that would pour down on her the second she picked up the phone. She didn’t want to hear them. She didn’t have the answers either.

Finally lifting her body up, she made her way to the bathroom. Maybe a shower would help. Even if it wouldn’t, it would still be something. She just wanted to feel a change of state, to continue turning with the planet. Anything.

***

She stopped half-way to the front door and turned around to see Elliot hesitantly examining the house a few steps behind her. She then returned to him and grabbed his hand.

“C’mon, no turning back now anyway!”

Slightly dragging him, she walked up to the doorstep and rang the bell. There was distant chatter and a few moments later, the door opened, revealing a pleasantly looking man in his fifties. He was wearing a buttoned shirt underneath an olive sweater and plain beige pants. Quickly glancing at both of their faces, he smirked.

“They’re here! Told you.”

“God, it’s been five seconds, and I’ve already heard a ‘told you so,’” she sighed, taking her shoes off. Elliot lingered a bit and proceeded to do the same, snapping out of his thought stream. She took a step forward and kissed the man on the cheek.

“That’s because your father has absolutely no shame,” there was the second voice coming from the kitchen. The next moment it fared to be an elegant woman in a cooking apron. She looked exactly like her, only older.

“Hey mom,” she said, giving her a quick hug. Then taking a step back, she touched Elliot by the shoulder. “This is Elliot. Elliot, this is my dad, Jacob, and my mom, Noam.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” said Elliot, shortly scolding himself for sounding so raspy.

“The pleasure is ours. It’s good to finally see the Elliot we’ve heard so much about.” Her dad chuckled.

Elliot was ready to receive a handshake attempt but before he could realize it, her dad was off.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered, “I told them you’re not into touching. Mom?” She then asked loudly, “do you need any help?”

“Actually, since you’re asking, could you bring the service set from the living room? Your father is no help.”

“I told you I needed to finish an article!” Came from the cabinet.

“Let’s go grab the set,” she signaled to Elliot.

Her parents’ house was cozy. Warm colors, nothing too fancy. It fitted her perfectly: Elliot could clearly see her growing up here, surrounded by loving people, slowly turning into a person she is right now. It felt nice.

“Hold this, would you?” She handed him the plates.

“You told them about me?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“You didn’t tell me to dress up,” Elliot jumped from one subject to another, using the moment of privacy to voice all his concerns.

“Cause there’s no need for it. My parents are not dressed for us; they’ve been working and came home not that long ago. So,” she turned to him with a warm smile, “how were the first five minutes?”

“They are very... relaxed. About everything.”

“Of course they are, it’s no big deal! I’m not sixteen anymore, there’s no need in “my boyfriend” PowerPoint presentation. They just wanted to meet to you, for context.”

She cupped his face, watching his features soften.

“It’s gonna go amazing, you’ll see. C’mon, let’s bring the set to the table.”

***

The water was freezing cold. Or burning hot. Either way, it was hurting the skin, but she could barely feel it. She wasn’t washing her hair or body. She was just standing there, under the strongest pressure possible, starting absently at the wall in front of her. Was it tears flowing down her face, shower water, or both, there was no difference by this point. She hugged her shoulders and pressed her forehead against the tile. She was numb.

After being done with the shower, she just threw some t-shirt on and walked back to the bedroom without even drying her hair. She curled in a corner of her room, trying to occupy as little space as possible. The memories found a way into her mind, starting to hurt like little sharp needles. The emotions started to boil, creating a painful gulp in her throat. Her face became crooked, it suddenly was too hard to handle, all of it. She let out a loud moan and burst into tears. She was sobbing, shaking her head, grabbing her hair.

How did it come to this? Why them? Of all the people? Why?

**Why why why**

***

“Elliot, do you have a food preference? Maybe I can cook something for you next time you come.” Her mom was fully involved in cooking and ended up involving Elliot and her too. They were both chopping vegetables for the salad. Elliot said right away that he is bad at cooking, but her mom was unbreakable. ‘In this house, everyone ends up cooking,’ she said.

“I have no preferences, really,” said Elliot quietly, carefully chopping the onions. He was slowly warming up to the conversation, and it made her genuinely happy. Her mom really knew her way around all sorts of people.

“Then you’ll obtain one after trying my lasagna, I’m telling you.”

“If you say so,” he nodded, a small smile crawling onto his face.

She would never admit she had concerns about this meeting. But seeing Elliot genuinely happy, chopping those red onions for a salad and even engaging in a conversation with her mom, she felt like this meeting couldn’t be going better. She lowered her gaze, staring at the cutting board, smiling to herself.

“Honey, will I be waiting forever for those tomato slices?”

“Sorry mom.”

***

“We are devastated to inform you that along with one of the E-Corp storage facilities the St. Ann’s Hospital has collapsed. It has been confirmed to be no survivors. Our hearts go to—“

It all became a blur after this. Static. She stood there, in front of her tv, unable to feel her own body anymore; the cup she had in her hand was now on the floor, shattered, with coffee spilled all over. She wasn’t blinking. She wasn’t even sure that she was breathing. She noticed the phone in her pocket buzzing. She took it out and answered the call that was saying ‘sister’ on the screen.

“Have you seen the news? Oh my god, have you seen it?!”

She couldn’t speak. She was just listening to her sister sobbing into the speaker, not moving a muscle.

“Answer me! Why are you silent? God dammit, just say something, anything! Please!”

She then heard her front door open, revealing red-eyed Elliot rushing into her living room, clenching his fists. She looked at him silently, lowering her hand with the cellphone in it.

Before saying anything, Elliot glanced at the tv screen, seeing the repeating footage of a hospital building collapsing. His breath was shaky, his lips - pressed together.

She felt tears falling down her cheeks. Her sister was still on the phone, crying.

“Please, say something, I don’t know what to do!”

Elliot called her, not even knowing what to say, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“My parents... were at that hospital.” Her voice came out broken and very quiet, barely hearable. Saying it out loud hurt her a lot more than she expected. She realized she was acknowledging it, making it real, turning it from a news report to reality.

“They were visiting grandpa. He was at that hospital. They were—they were at that hospital.”

Elliot slowly came up to her, whispering her name over and over again. He reached out his hand but stopped, hesitating to close the last centimeter between them. His shaking hand squeezed back into a fist. She wasn’t looking at him anymore; her eyes were back at the tv, watching the pictures of fire and smoke changing one after another, showing people crying and holding each other. Her eyes were reflecting the images of the screen. There was nothing else in them. Elliot was so close to her, but it felt like millions and millions of miles. His tongue disobeyed him and refused to form all the things that circled in his head. He watched her falling apart right there and then, and he couldn’t stop it.

She wasn’t there anymore.

***

The dinner went great. Her parents had a genuine interest in Elliot, telling him one story after another. She had to ask them time to time to slow it down, not to overwhelm him, but Elliot seemed genuinely involved in the conversation and took in every word. At the very end, when they were already cleaning the dishes, Jacob said he wanted to have a quick word with Elliot. She nodded, saying to not go harsh on him, already seeing Elliot’s petrified face.

“God,” her mother sighed, “is he trying to give him a heart attack? It took so much to warm him up.”

“I think the opposite, mom,” she giggled, looking how Elliot and her father disappeared in the latter’s cabinet.

It took some time for them to finish chatting. She managed to prepare the bed and change before Elliot entered the room.

“So,” she cooed, lying in bed, watching Elliot slowly undress,” how did it go? Did my father threaten you?”

“It went good,” he was laconic, as always, but his smile showed he was being genuine. “We talked a lot.”

“Well, no shit Elliot, I doubt you were sitting in silence all that time! Tell me more.”

“He said,” Elliot sat on the bed and went silent for a bit, examining her bright face. She raised her brows in curiosity. “He said he had never seen you so happy with someone before.”

“That’s because I’ve never been happier with someone before.”

They shared a warm look, after which Elliot crawled into the bed. She nestled to him, caressing his cheek.

“Thank you,” he said, “for bringing me here.”

He leaned in and kissed her. She smiled into the kiss, holding his face tightly.

“I told you it would go great.”

***

She stumbled into the kitchen. Her face was completely numb from crying, her eyes were swollen. Her hair was still dripping wet from the shower; she looked like an animal that barely escaped drowning and was now wambling without any sense of reality.

She took a bottle of tequila from the top shelf and made a huge gulp from it, finishing what was left in there. It was for stimulation, again. Shower helped only for a moment, she needed to feel something again. The alcohol burned her throat, but the feeling was momentary and disappeared before she knew it. She needed something better, stronger. Something that would make her feel. She scanned the kitchen with her half-closed eyes. Her gaze stopped at the knife stand: she could see her reflection in the surface of one of them. She didn’t recognize herself. It wasn’t her at all. It was a stranger, barely a human. She looked lifeless. Maybe because she’s been dead on the inside since the second she saw the news on that fateful day. Maybe she’s even deader now that she’s been to the funeral, where the fact of death of three people in her family established itself once and for all. Elliot was there too, but he wouldn’t look at her. That’s understandable, she wouldn’t look at herself either. She was pathetic.

She took the knife into her hands, examining it closely. She tried its tip on one of her fingers; it popped the skin like a bubble, letting a blood drop out. Maybe this is what she needed. Maybe this was the ‘something’ that would make her feel.

Or maybe it would be better to stop feeling at all. The crying, the sobbing, the unbearable suffering. She could just pop it, like another bubble, and let it all out.

She sat against the kitchen counter, continuing to twirl the knife in her hands. How much would it take make the pain go away? How much would it take to pop that bubble? She would do it and free herself from all that pain.

_She should do it._

She squeezed the knife handle tighter, bringing it closer to her hand. It’s nothing. It two movements, and the rest is history. Her breathing fastened as she studied her arm, all the vein traces. She didn’t want to think of other people. She wanted to be selfish just for now, just for this much.

She should do it. She should just do it. She strained her muscles and clenched her hand into a fist. She should do it. She should do it. She should do it.

**Do it.**

The knife penetrated the skin and ripped it up, full length. The pain pierced her entire body. There it was, the feeling. Blood started streaming out and down, covering her legs and the floor. Her vision slowly became blurry and dark.

She was dying.

It scared her. She was losing control of her body. She shouldn’t have done it. She tried to get up, to grab the towel, to stop the blood, but her legs were too weak. She ended up tripping and falling to the side. Her face landed into the blood puddle. It scared her even more, she was terrified. She shouldn’t have done it. She could taste her own blood on her lips. Salty, metallic flavor. It was getting harder to breathe. She shouldn’t have done it.

She shouldn’t have done it.

***

Elliot did not wait after ringing the bell. He took out the duplicate of the key she made for him a long time ago and opened the door. He hesitated before calling her name. There was no answer. He entered the apartment, looking around. Was she not here? His was worried sick. He should’ve come to the funeral. What kind of a person he is now? It was the moment she needed him the most and he neglected her. And for what? So he could feel sorry for himself, so he could blame himself, like it would change anything.

And then he saw it. Blood, slowly leaking from around the corner. He didn’t remember any details after that. He rushed into the kitchen, almost tripping on the blood. He dropped on his knees, taking her body into his arms. He grabbed the towel, pressing it into the cut, trying to stop the blood. He took her phone that was hanging out of her pocket and called the ambulance. He was stuttering and sobbing. And while doing all of that he was repeatedly saying “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry

He was saying it over and over, like a mantra.

I’m sorry I’m sorry It’s my fault I’m sorry

Over and over.

I’m sorry

***

He felt conscious again only in the hospital, when he was sitting next to her bed, seeing her chest rising, hearing the machine beeping in time with her heartbeat. ‘It was an act of God,’ the doctor said to him. ‘A miracle.’ Elliot didn’t care how to call it. Whatever it was, he was thankful it came out the way it did. His chest was burning from guilt and shame. He deserved it. It’s the least that he deserves. It shouldn’t have been her back there, on the floor, surrounded by blood. It should have been him. It should’ve been his body, his blood. It should’ve been him. It should’ve been him. He should’ve—“

“Hey,” he heard her whisper. It made him jump in his chair. He jerked his head up and looked at her. She looked peaceful. Even happy.

He contemplated before saying anything back. It was suddenly hard to talk. His throat was suddenly hurting, and he felt a tingle in his eyes.

“Hey,” he finally echoed, his voice quiet and shaky.

She looked at him a bit more, taking his face in. Then her gaze shamefully shifted to the side.

“I’m sorry. I probably scared you shitless. It’s—“

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks to you.”

They sat there in silence for some time, just taking each other in. She was feeling everything now: the affection, the love, the sadness, the pain from the scar on her hand, the simple happiness of being alive. But Elliot’s expression was troubled. She could see it in his eyes: they were darkened by self-flagellation. He wasn’t looking at her anymore. His posture was shrunken, his head was turned away from her, both his hands between his knees. She could hear it:

_It’s my fault_

_It’s my fault_

_It’s my fault_

She reached out and touched his hand, making him twitch and finally look back at her.

“It’s not your fault, Elliot.”

He raised his eyebrows, startled. She smiled and shifted in the hospital bed. “Come here.”

Elliot was confused. “I don’t think if I should—“

“Elliot, come on, lie with me. Please.”

He obeyed, standing up from the chair and slowly crawling onto the bed with her, lying on the side, his nose almost touching hers. She smiled and took his face into her hands. The warmth of her palms triggered something in Elliot. Silent tears started falling down his face. He tried to control himself but couldn’t help his body shaking. She started crying too, pressing herself closer to him, wanting to feel him as much as possible.

“Things,” her speech was abrupt from sobs, she was trying her best to sound clear, “things are v-very shitty right now. B-but you gra—anted me this ch-chance to continue and I—I’m not gonna waste it. Every—thing will work out.”

“I know,” he was sobbing with her, squeezing her hands with his, pressing them into his cheeks, “I will—I will fix everything, I promise. I will make—I will make things right.”

She started nodding viciously and closed the distance between them, pressing her lips against his, squinting, taking his presence in with her whole body, feeling him. They were pressing their bodies against one another, trying to be closer, intertwining their legs. They weren’t just kissing: they were caressing each other’s faces, tracing lines with lips, touching, leaning in, rubbing noses, bathing in each other’s affection, whispering ‘I love you’s’ to each other over and over again, making up for all the past pain and suffering.

Things were shitty.

But now that they had each other, things were going to be okay.


End file.
